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Crotch Biting Snakes on a Plane
Snakes on a Plane
starring Samuel L. Jackson, Julianna Margulies, snakes as themselves
directed by David R. Ellis, 105 min, rated R
There are moments in history, great moments, when the people of their time rise to meet the technology of their age. Planets align. Messiahs are born. Civilizations prosper. And snakes get their asses handed to them by Samuel L. Jackson.
You might not have been alive for Woodstock. Or perhaps you missed the tearing down of the Berlin wall. It’s even possible you never heard of Hands Across America. But if you were lucky enough to be at Grauman’s Chinese Theater on Friday for the opening of Snakes on a Plane, you were part of a new social order. You stood up and took your place among the hissing, cheering thousands. You were there from the beginning. You were there before there existed. You invented there. Your mom is there.
And whether it’s a good film is really not the point. It’s like Rocky Horror for a generation that doesn’t know what Rocky Horror is. It’s like a wish-list of every gross and awesome thing you can imagine. It’s like the best movie ever.
So be a believer, go proudly, and instigate your own aural experience of a screaming mob. Yell loudly, but earnestly for your beloved snakes. Applaud when babies are saved. Gasp when naked people get eaten. And laugh smugly at everyone’s acting, except for Samuel L., for whom you will rejoice wildly.
Besides, how often can you enjoy a film about airline terror without the fear of worrisome, racial stereo-typing of the terrorists? These are equal opportunity snakes. Sure, one of them might be from Egypt, but now you’re just being paranoid.
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photo by nicdafis via flickr
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